Chapter 24 #2
Carrie slowed the car as we approached a red light. She turned her head, her dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that caught my breath. The mask was gone, replaced by something soft, somewhat surprised, and deeply moved.
My brain immediately kicked into overdrive during the silence. She was going to say no. She'd give me a lecture about being her student.
"I mean," I started, a nervous ramble, "I know we aren't exactly supposed to be. Student and teacher. Ethics and all that boring stuff. Maybe that’s why you’re so careful.
At Uni, you don't even look at me for a second longer than you look at anyone else.
You're so professional. So maybe a date is a stupid idea.
Maybe someone might see us and you'd lose everything—"
"Alex," Carrie said, her voice a calm, low vibration that cut through my spiralling thoughts.
I shut up instantly. We had reached my house, and she pulled the car to the path, cutting the engine. She turned in her seat, resting one arm on the steering wheel.
"First," she said, her gaze pinning me to the spot, "stop overthinking.
It doesn't suit you." She reached across the centre console, her hand sliding behind my neck to pull me gently toward her.
"The reason I don't 'linger' at the university is because if I touched you in those hallways the way I want to, neither of us would make it to our next seminar. It’s called discretion, darling. Not shame."
I held my breath. She traced my jaw with her thumb.
"As for a date," she continued, a playful, dangerous little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "I think it’s a wonderful idea. I know a very quiet, very exclusive place where the only thing people will be looking at is how lucky I am to have you on my arm. But let's be clear about one thing, Alex. If you’re taking me out, you’re going to have to work very hard to keep my attention. I’m a very demanding woman to court. "
I let out a breath, my forehead dropping against hers.
"I think I can handle 'demanding,' Dr. Carter.
But also," I added, my cheeks flushing, "I want to plan it.
I want to be the one to organise it. I...
I can't really afford to take you to the kind of places you’re used to.
But I want to do this for us. Properly."
Carrie’s expression melted into something profoundly tender. She reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Alex," she whispered, her voice thick with affection. "I’m sure whatever you plan will be perfect. I’m not interested in the menu, darling. I’m interested in the company."
Then, she leaned in, and the boring adult week of abstinence went up in flames. It had been over a week since Carlos—over a week of polite nods in hallways. I was starving for her.
I groaned into her mouth, my hands flying up to lace through her dark hair, pulling her closer, deeper. The sudden, sharp tension of my hold elicited a low, throat-deep moan from Carrie—a sound of pure surrender that sent a bolt of lightning straight to my core.
The centre console felt like a canyon I was desperate to cross. I pushed myself up, my knees digging into the leather of the passenger seat as I practically crawled toward her. Carrie caught me halfway, her hands hooking under my arms to haul me into her space.
I shifted my grip, sliding my hand from the silk of her hair down to the hem of that devastating grey dress. My palm hit the warmth of her bare thigh, and I slid my hand upward, skin-on-skin.
Carrie let out a sharp, choked gasp, her spine arching back. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, nipping at the soft skin there and dragging my tongue over her thundering pulse point.
Screeeech.
A sudden explosion of noise at the end of the road fractured the moment. Harsh voices and a violently slammed door pierced through the fog in my head, dragging us both abruptly out of the haze.
The spell disintegrated. We both froze.
I slumped back into my seat, dropping my forehead against the dashboard with a muffled groan. "I hate this place," I muttered.
Carrie took a long, shuddering breath, manually rebooting her brain. She sat up straight, her hands returning to the steering wheel, adjusting the collar of her dress with quick efficiency.
"I'll pick you up after work tomorrow, darling," she said, her voice regaining its steady clip, though her eyes were still dark with lingering heat.
"Can we do that date next week?" I asked, turning to her.
Carrie tilted her head, a small smirk tugging at her mouth. "I can do Monday. And I don don’t need to be in the office until nine a.m. on Tuesday."
"That's perfect," I said. Internally, my brain went into a full-blown tailspin. Monday. That was only a few days away. I had forty-eight hours to plan something that wouldn’t make me look like a total amateur in front of a woman who probably drank wine older than I was.
Carrie got out of the car, moving around to open my door and offering me her hand. Standing on the cracked pavement, we looked like a total mismatch—her in her elegant dress and me in my beer-scented work clothes. She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.
"Goodnight, Alex," she whispered.
"Night, Carrie."
I watched her drive away, then leaned my back against the locked front door, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor.
"Monday," I breathed out, clutching my head in my hands. "Fuck. What am I going to do for Monday?"
* * *
The adrenaline from the bus ride was still humming in my veins as I practically sprinted through the front door.
I had exactly two hours to transform from a frantic student into someone worthy of a "real" date with Carrie.
I dumped my bag in the hallway, already mentally ticking through my wardrobe, when the sound stopped me cold.
A cough. Thin, wet, and weak. It was coming from the lounge.
My heart sank. I dropped the frantic energy instantly and walked into the room. My mum was swallowed up by the cushions of the old sofa, her skin a worrying shade of grey-pale.
"Mum?" I knelt beside her, taking her hand—it felt like parchment. "You look rough. Have you had your meds?"
"I have, love," she said, her voice a soft thread. She tried to smile. "Just a bit of a bad day. I’m so sorry, Alex... I haven't even touched the washing, and I haven't put anything on for your dad's dinner."
"Don't be silly," I said, my throat tightening. "I can whip something up before I head out."
Mum looked at me, the fog clearing from her eyes. "The date. You’ve got that date with Caroline." She tried to nudge me away. "Go on. Go get ready. Don't you dare stay in the kitchen on my account."
She was clammy, a cold sweat sticking to her skin.
For a split second, Monday night felt entirely unimportant.
I was still hovering, caught between the urge to grab a thermometer and the need to jump in the shower, when the back door rattled.
My dad walked in, dropping his keys. He took one look at us and placed a heavy, grounding hand on my shoulder.
"Alright, Lex," he said. "I’ve got her. I'll get her a tea and whip up a packet of mash." He gave me a pointed look. "Go on. Get yourself sorted. You’ve been looking forward to this."
Ninety minutes later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking a final, shaky breath.
I’d gone for a skirt paired with heeled boots that made me feel a little more like a fucking adult.
My hair was down in soft waves, and my makeup was heavy enough to hide the dark circles.
I looked good, but inside, I was a mess of raw nerves.
My budget-friendly plan was tucked into my pocket—a series of reservations I hoped looked intentional, not cheap.
I slipped into the lounge to check on Mum one last time. She’d drifted into a light sleep. Moving into the kitchen, I found Dad fumbling with a tin of soup.
"Dad," I said, hovering. "Look, I can stay."
Dad turned around, his eyes softening. He gave a low whistle. "Blimey, Lex. You look incredible. If you stay here and help me open a tin of beans, I’ll never forgive myself. Go. Be the girl who isn't worrying about us for five minutes, yeah?"
He practically pushed me out onto the porch into the biting December air. Moments later, the familiar purr of a high-end engine hummed at the end of the street. Carrie’s car rounded the corner, and my stomach did a violent somersault.
Carrie didn’t just wait in the car. She stepped out, and I forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing a tailored black dress that should be illegal, but it was her hair that caught me. It was in a delicate half-up, half-down style—a direct, playful loophole to my rule about only letting it down for me.
She crossed the pavement, cupped my face, and kissed me. It tasted like the expensive peppermint she always had before a lecture. But as she pulled back, her sharp, analytical eyes scanned my face, seeing right through the foundation.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with immediate concern.
"Nothing," I said, forcing a smile. If I explained, she'd insist on staying, which would devastate my mum. "Just nerves. I’ve never taken a terrifyingly beautiful woman out on a proper date before."
Carrie narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it, but she let it go. She opened the passenger door with old-school gallantry, and once we were settled inside, the scent of her perfume wrapped around me, grounding me.
"So," she purred, shifting into gear. "Are you going to tell me where we're going, or am I just driving until I hit the coast?"
"City centre," I laughed. "There’s a little place near the canal. It has the best view in the city, and they don't serve anything that comes with fake glitter."
The canal restaurant was a hidden gem, warm and intimate. As the waiter ushered us to a secluded table by the window, I saw the bouquet of deep red roses resting in the centre. I’d called in every favour I had to make sure they were there.